-1Aristocratic Tendencies

SSJP Fan Fiction

Alternate Universe Story

ObsessiveDevil23

Another multi-chapter with Severus and James, Severus on top; simply because there isn't enough of this stuff, which means I have to write lots and lots and lots of them!

I'd given Sev a chance to be in charge, now it's James' turn again… If you liked Dependence, then you'll probably like this.

This is an AU story.

'Because I just can't stop fucking with you'

Chapter 1 - Hogwarts School for Ladies and Gentlemen

"James, sweetie." She said it cautiously, like whatever she had to say next was going to cause everyone in the room a lot of grief, yet what she had to say was unavoidable. Dorea looked at her husband for help, refusing to look at her son. Charles sighed.

"Alright son, let's get to the point." He started, his voice was stern but held an edge that suggested he always talked as such. "Your grades are slipping."

At this, James' shoulders sagged, and all at once he noticed the open letter in his mother's hands, the Hogwarts seal broken down the middle of the 'H', and his parents worried expressions.

James looked from his father, the multimillionaire owner of Hogwarts School for ladies and Gentleman (the prestigious school on invitation only, located in Scotland), to his mother, the plump chef who's mother had owned a five star restaurant in London and did most of the cooking herself. Dorea had inherited that business. It was rare for the two of them to be together, because they were always so busy. That, and this was The Pottery (his dad's favourite property with castle like attributes, near the coast of Scotland), and anything his dad liked, you could bet his mum wouldn't. And vice versa.

His family had inherited a few things from the long generation of Gryffindors. Godric Gryffindor being the founder of the family, and the founder of Hogwarts (back in a time when girls didn't go to school so it was one of a kind). Gryffindor had founded the school with three of his friends, but Gryffindor was the longest running blood heritage and as a result, Charles was the sole heir to ownership of the school. The school, of course, was only one amongst many things James' father had inherited, such as The Pottery, and Godric's Hollow (his mothers favourite property in the London suburbs, and his fathers least favourite). However, it was the school that took up most of his father's time. As the Governor, it would look bad if his son wasn't achieving the very best possible. Unfortunately, James wasn't exactly born to be academic.

The exams they'd had to sit last year, James' fifth year, had not exactly gone well.

"In my defence-" the boy began, but his father held up his hand to silence his son. Charles had a way of imposing power when needed.

"You're a pure-blood James, and son to the Governor of Hogwarts. While Dumbledore might think this is acceptable, we do not." He explained, gesturing between himself and Dorea. Dumbledore was the school's headmaster, and had been appointed on recommendation from a Potter family friend, the Malfoys. Charles hadn't wanted to offend the Malfoys, so had put Dumbledore as headmaster, however, most people viewed the man as senile and not quite there. Most pure-bloods anyway. James couldn't quite see what the Malfoys, another pure-blood family, had seen in the man. The Scholarship kids thought he was a saint. Then again, if it hadn't been for Dumbledore, the Scholarship kids wouldn't exist.

Hogwarts had a five scale hierarchy.

First were Pure-bloods; being old, influential families who had been invited from way back, when the school first began. Generations of these families had been through the school, such as the Blacks, the Malfoys, the Prewetts, the Crouches, and so on.

After them lied the Half-bloods; those families who had been recruited recently for their newly grown influence in society. These included the Changs, who had become popular within the sporting trade; the Lovegoods, who were creators of funky household objects; the Pettigrews, who were appointed on recommendation by the Malfoys, and the Longbottoms, who had connections with the police, but where also developing plants for cross-country trade.

Then there were the Scholarship kids, who got in because they were smart. This was a scheme thought up by Dumbledore when he first became headmaster. The Vances, the Evans', etcetera. They came from no money of social background, and didn't make much of a name for themselves in the world, nor did they know how things at Hogwarts worked. What annoyed James most, was if one child in the family got in on scholarship, so did any siblings that child might have.

Then there were the servants, whom had been labelled 'house-elves'. They were rarely seen by students, but were employed on a good rate. They came from families who could barely afford to live, and were always younger then ten. Once they turned Eleven they were accepted to attended Hogwarts as Scholarship students.

Then, of course, there was the lowest of the low. The social outcast families. Those families who had disgraced themselves, or that there was simply something a little bit odd about them, the Weasleys, and the Lupins, for example. These were the families James really didn't want at Hogwarts, because he was due to inherit and he didn't want a school for forming Ladies and Gentlemen for society, with families that had been rejected by society. However, as long as Charles and Dumbledore were in charge, there was not much he could do.

In other words, being a pure-blood, James had to set an example.

James sighed.

"I'll work harder." he promised, although he knew he had promised it a lot of times before. Charles shook his head, knowing this fact too.

"We've heard that too many times James." Said Dorea, shifting her hands in her lap to make her look more lady-like while she talked. That was the type of thing they taught at Hogwarts, along with the normal academic subjects, it was how to present yourself to society. James shrugged.

"I do try."

"We know you do." agreed his mother. For the most part, Dorea, with her long black hair and startling eyes, and her dazzling posture, was a very agreeable person.

Charles stood.

"We've arranged for a tutor James." He said, making James cringe. As if he hadn't had enough stuffy old men pointing at maths equations and trying (in vain) to explain how they worked. Every year Charles tried to set James up with a tutor; the boy would try them on for size, but refuse to see them again after three weeks. This year, however, Charles didn't seem like he was going to be lenient. "I have thought about your needs." He stated, as if this meant everything was okay. James furrowed his brow, not entirely happy with the way his father said that.

"What do you mean?" he asked, also standing, realising it was rude to sit while another stood. That privilege was left for the ladies in the room, like Dorea.

Charles ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair in a way that made it lie, if possible, even more perfectly. James stared at it wistfully. His hair was a birds nest, having seemed not to take after either of his parents, it stuck out at odd angles and made him look like he constantly had bed hair. After years of trying, Dorea and Charles had given up on trying to tame it.

"I mean you will see your tutor as a tutor once a week, as usual." Charles replied, "However, during the time he is not your tutor, he is being paid to be your personal assistant."

James stared at his father like he'd just said 'the end of the world is tomorrow'. It wasn't panic or anger, just a dull disbelief, like 'yeah… wait, what did you say?'. Charles took his son's hand and shook it.

"Hopefully it will give you enough time to really get to know him, so you wont kick him out after three weeks." He said, letting go. "Now, you'll be late for school. I'll arrange for Gimmick to give you a lift."

James forgot, school. He was visiting The Pottery at the weekend before school starts, and on the Friday morning (School always started on the first of September, no matter what day), Charles had dropped the bombshell that James would be getting a personal assistant - who, of course, doubled as a tutor. He was probably a really old guy with bad breath and a dodgy back who used an old fashioned walking stick to get around.

"When will I meet…" He trailed off, not entirely wishing to voice allowed that he was, say, a little excited about the prospect of meeting who it was. Just to curb his suspicions.

Charles was practically pushing him out the door.

"You'll meet him Monday, five O'clock in the normal room." He said, "It will be your first session, all will be discussed there. - Gimmick! - Now go son. I shall see you next weekend to discuss how you like this man."

Gimmick, the chauffer, was an older man with mostly grey hair (although James liked to reassure him that you could still see some of his old blonde), he had two very blue eyes and two slightly larger then normal nostrils. He was very short. So much so that he had to sit on the edge of the seat to be able to reach the peddles, and his seat belt had to be specially fitted. Most of the time Charles wouldn't be bothered with a driver that needed special assistance, but Gimmick made up for it with a lot of enthusiasm and just generally being good at his job. He always knew the way to where you needed to be (without a sat-nav) and he never asked questions about why you wanted to go there.

"School Master?" He said when James approached. He slide open the door to the limo easily, smoothly and professionally, and waited until James was in and seated before gently closing the door again. He settled himself in the front seat and looked in his mirror to watch James nod. Gimmick knew they needed to go to Hogwarts, but it was always right to get the Master's confirmation first. Especially since James did like to skive a lot of the time.

They sped off towards school with James in the back seat, wondering about who this mystery man was. It wasn't as if he hadn't had tutors before, but this one, even by just the sound of him, felt different. James waved if off as the fact that he would not merely be a tutor, but a personal assistant. Starting Monday, he'd know how his father felt. He'd been Charles son forever, but he never got the chance to bark orders and just have things done for him before. Perhaps it was superficial, and it was bound to inflate his ego, but he had to admit; he couldn't wait.

- X -

James' happy anticipation evaporated when he got to school. While it was nice to see Sirius Black (his best friend and Cousin), it was not so nice to see a particular lanky haired, hooked nosed Slytherin.

Severus Snape and James had been in a rivalry ever since Charles had come home saying they were inviting the Snapes to Hogwarts as Half-Bloods. The Snapes were medical scientists, mixing new cures and medicines. As far as James was concerned, that wasn't good enough. There were plenty of medical scientists in the world, and he didn't need half-rate do-gooders polluting his school. He knew, although his father didn't tell him, that they had been another recommendation from the Malfoys, who Charles was loath to refuse. When Severus had turned up to accept his invitation, James' suspicions had been confirmed. Snape was not a gentleman; he was an ugly bat-like little punk-boy who nobody was going to like, and could not be trained to be acceptable in society. Why, exactly, were they even bothering?

Not surprisingly, James and Snape did not exactly see eye to eye, and between the two of them, they made each other's lives at school a living hell. The amount of nasty little rumours Snape had been able to spread about James, which had almost cost him his popularity, were disarming. And James hated to admit they were the reason he spent a lot of time skiving off. On the other hand, James had physical strength, if he did not have the cunning Snape seemed to possess, and he was proud to admit Snape had a few extra bruises thanks to him. Not only this, but James had Sirius on his side, and Sirius was a ladies man; he made sure no person ever went near Snape romantically, despite the boy growing into something not quite as ugly as he had been when they first met at 11.

James shook his head, that was a stupid thought. No matter how tall Snape grew, he'd still be a pale, lanky-haired brat who wore way too much black. Vampiric, almost.

James scowled across the great hall, where all the students were enjoying a feast after the new students had been sorted into their respective houses (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, after the four founders - they were sorted by family ties and personality test results). James was sat comfortably at the Gryffindor table with Sirius Black (who had family ties to Slytherin, but had scored so uniquely on his personality test that they had to place him in Gryffindor). Snape was sat on the other side of the hall, on the Slytherin table, and was talking to a strikingly beautiful red-head girl.

The girl was Lily Evans, who was a Scholarship student, but one James was very lenient towards, mainly because she was so beautiful, but also because he didn't want her sister, Petunia, on his tail. He'd thought about her romantically, he wouldn't deny it, but when he saw her talking with Snape, he remembered that she'd never like him like that. Besides, Charles would not like the idea of his marrying someone of a lower class. Charles was completely against the Scholarship system, but also easily manipulated, and Dumbledore was good at manipulation.

Lily was in Gryffindor, and therefore shouldn't even be sitting at the Slytherin table. He clenched his fist. Okay, maybe this was one of the reasons James hated Snape. What the hell did that bat have that James didn't? How did he get the attention of a girl like her, when James got repulsed looks and snide comments? What he wouldn't give to have a real conversation with her.

"You were staring, you know." Sirius said as they made their way up to Gryffindor tower later that evening. James blinked slightly.

"What?" He asked, and Sirius sighed, as if he'd been expecting that James wouldn't be following.

"At the feast, at Snape." He clarified, the long haired Black shrugged his shoulders. "He's gotten less skinny over the holidays hasn't he? Bet he's been working out… he'll want to be able to defend next time."

"Next time…" James wondered, then, "Oh, right. Nah, he's still a brat. We can get him just fine."

Sirius shrugged.

"You were still staring."

James rolled his eyes.

"So what?" He asked, and watched as Sirius peeled back the portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress, which was painted on the door to the Gryffindor common room. Sirius shrugged again, walking through.

"Anyone would think you liked him."

James let that sink in, standing on one side of the portrait, while Sirius was on the other. Anyone would think… that James, liked, Snape?

He scoffed.

"You need to get your eyesight checked." He said, trying not to show how much that little comment was freaking him out. After all, he had a reputation to uphold. What would happen if rumours started spreading about his feelings for that bat? Not that he had any feelings for the bat. "I was looking at Lily." He reassured himself as much as Sirius.